My Life as a Male Stripper (3)

The night of my stripping debut finally came (actually it was 1:30 in the afternoon (you have to work your way up to a spot on the night shift).  The electricity in the air was palpable which was a rare afternoon occurrence the Dallas Greyhound Bus Cocktail Lounge.  I was feeling a combination of adrenaline, stage fright, and excitement.  My bubble shaped behind was a little chafed from the butt-less chaps (on all future performances I always made sure I had some baby powder in my bag).  Because of the size of jock strap needed to conceal my prosthetic device, I had room to sew on silver sequins spelling out “The Longest Day” on the pouch.  I picked a cherry red pants with snaps on either side.  The crowd was lighter than I had hoped (six upright customers and one passed out at a table in the corner) but nothing could dampen my enthusiasm.  I climbed up the step stool onto the counter behind the bar.  My music began to play and I was off.  I spent the next twenty minutes doing the bump and grind, twirls and spins, tearing off my clothes and finally ending up wearing nothing but a smile and my prosthetic device.  As I climbed down from the counter four of the five people stood up clapping and the passed out guy raised his head.  I went back out to give a second bow but the bartender had already put up the step stool and told me to scram.  It didn’t bother me that I only made $13.23 in tips.  It also didn’t bother me that I owed the Dallas Greyhound Bus Cocktail Lounge $187 for knocking over a few bottles of top shelf booze with my prosthetic device during a spin.  I had a heady feeling of accomplishment for a job well done.  Things were looking up – the Waffle House on Cedar Springs was interested in hiring me.  I will always remember that first night.  Although I may have more profitable gigs in the future, this was the one that got me started.